


Hours

by Meowser_Clancy



Series: Jimel Moments [1]
Category: Ghost Whisperer
Genre: F/M, Late Nights, Love, make it work, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowser_Clancy/pseuds/Meowser_Clancy
Summary: Because Jim had only just realized that this would either make or break them. 
Set when they've first moved in together and they're both having a hard time adjusting to their conflicting schedules.





	

They'd moved in together a week ago, and today was the first time she'd been alone, at midnight, waiting for Jim to come in.

Through some odd twists of fate, he'd had pretty regular hours this week. And Melinda knew, from past experience, that his schedule as a paramedic was all freaking over the place; never regular, never predictable.

And before they'd moved in together, that was fine. It just meant getting breakfast instead of dinner; or a hurried lunch instead of a lazy afternoon.

But now…

It was past 2 a.m., and he wasn't going to be back until 4. Her stomach was twisting and turning, and she was mildly panicking over the ghost she was dealing with currently.

She needed someone here. She wanted Jim here, she wanted to curl up in his arms and let the pain go away. She wanted peace.

And she knew she'd only get peace with him.

But he wasn't there. He was working, and he had the night shift all this week.

She wasn't sure suddenly if she could handle this.

* * *

She didn't know when Jim first realized how hard his schedule was on her, how much she had to rearrange the simplest things now that they were living together; previously they'd call each other to check one another's availability but somehow living under the same roof made them both assume more time for the other.

It was turning out to be the opposite. She'd come in at 6 from the shop, and he'd be leaving for work; because they weren't strictly in the dating stage at this point, neither had thought to find out if she should come home sooner if she wanted to spend time with him, and she only got time for a quick kiss before he darted out the door, an apology in his blue eyes.

And it was just disrupting, and impossible to have sex anymore. They used to plan it; Melinda would phone him up, and they'd made thrilling plans for a hot night together, but now he was just crawling into bed at 2 a.m., totally exhausted and she was, typically, already sleeping; she usually jolted awake sometime past three to find him in bed beside her, already asleep.

Which was disappointing.

Because she knew that, as tired as Jim was, he always had energy to make love to her, if only he'd woken her up. But he didn't.

She wasn't sure what to make of that. Was he being accommodating? Because she supposed she appreciated the gesture but she'd sure as hell appreciate being woken with a good night morning) kiss when he finally came to bed.

* * *

**She realized that this was probably something she should tell him, as he told her his schedule one Sunday night, apology in his eyes.**

"It's all crazy," he said. "6 a.m. to 2 p.m. tomorrow. 4 p.m. to midnight Tuesday. Today, of course, it's 5 p.m. to 1 a.m. and then Wednesday is off." He looked up at her, eyes hopeful.

"I already arranged to go a lady's house and buy pretty much everything on Wednesday," Melinda began. "She's probating her father's estate and it was the only day she was in town; I'll be gone all day. I told you that."

She could hear the stress in her voice; she knew he didn't have that much control over the idnighschedule but she'd hoped he'd at least have mentioned it.

"Sorry," he said, eyes ducking. "Um, Thursday is midnight to eight. Friday is off. Saturday is ten to six."

"Okay," Melinda said.

His eyes were blue, and he was looking up at her, biting his lip. "Are you free on Friday?"

"I have an auction," she said. And then they didn't really talk after that, as he finished packing dinner and pressed a kiss to her forehead in goodbye; she had a lump in her throat and threw down the book she'd been pretending to read, trying not to cry. Trying to not feel like he refused to make time for her.

Because his schedule was what it was. Maybe now was time for her to step up and cancel Friday or Wednesday's events but she wanted to be able to pay the rent this month, and her student loans, and her insurance…

She inhaled, knowing that they both just had to suck it up, wondering where they should be going from here to make it work.

* * *

He'd seen the stress in her eyes to realize what odd hours he'd be working, how none of their days would match up; he knew that just because she owned her own business and technically made her own hours didn't mean that she was any more available than he was, and it was selfish of him to expect it.

But he still blew out a breath of air in frustration, looking over at her shop from where he stood at the fire station.

He could literally just walk over there right now, get Bobby to cover for him for fifteen minutes, say hello to Melinda...say a little more than hello...do a little more than just greet her…

They'd only had sex once in the past two weeks and he had a feeling it was killing both of them; moving in together was supposed to make things easier, not harder.

She was all he could think about. How short she was compared to him. How she could just walk up behind him in the kitchen, surprising him; he'd turn to find her there and just all over again be stunned by how fucking beautiful she was, and the fact that she was his. Willingly. That she loved him, that her arms were wrapping around him, asking him to come to bed.

But, of course, he couldn't. He had to go to work.

There was a new fire chief; he hadn't been very accommodating to the few scheduling requests Jim had made and he was slowly getting frustrated with how things were working out, thinking of Melinda alone in their apartment night after night.

How she was always so deeply asleep when he came home; he never dared to wake her up.

That had been the main point of argument between him and Stephanie; she hated being woken up once sleeping.

He bit his lip, again considering just running over to kiss her hello and leave again, as frustrating as that would be, but he saw a group of elderly ladies enter the shop and knew that she'd be busy for a good while yet.

He wasn't going to see her today.

* * *

Case in point: Sunday had been 5 to 1; he'd stumbled home to bed only to get up before six, blindly rummaging for his clothes, feeling Melinda wake up with him.

"The new chief is crazy," she mumbled as he pulled his uniform on.

"You don't know how much I agree with you," Jim said hurriedly, seeing how tousled she was; how her hair was spread on the pillow behind her and her eyes were deliciously sleepy; god, how he wanted to just kiss her until she was awake, until they were both awake, thrillingly and fully.

She was sitting up, propped on her elbows, chest jutting out from the positioning and he could see the hard tips of her nipples through her thin cotton nightgown, unable to resist just leaning over her, startling her when his arms came around her, pressing his lips to hers; she clung to him and he picked her up, princess style, keeping them close, her arms tight around his neck, until the alarm clock reminder beeped to say it was 5:55 and he had better get the hell going.

She moaned, not a sound of pleasure, as he slowly lowered her back onto the bed.

"We've got tonight," he said, and she nodded, rolling over in bed, leaving him to get to work.

* * *

That afternoon when he got off his shift, he went straight over to Same As It Never Was...and Melinda wasn't there.

"Ghost," Andrea mouthed and Jim gave in, going to the grocery store on the way home; he'd make dinner and pray that Melinda made it home in time for it to still be hot.

Because he wouldn't and couldn't ask her to sacrifice her ghostly assistance. He wasn't going to be that guy. And he knew that it was very important to her...and the spirits she helped.

But good god, something had to change here.

These hours would make or break them. He'd seen it in her eyes this morning, that she was about to just give up.

He had to make it work.

* * *

She barely made it home by seven, walking into the apartment to find delicious smells in the air, and Jim was at the table, waiting for her.

"You could have eaten without me," she said, taking her jacket off; he jumped up to grab it from her.

"Not an option," he said, pressing a kiss to her neck and pulling her chair out.

And they talked, as they usually did. He told about his day; she related her new ghostly troubles and then dinner was over and Jim was clearing the table.

And if they didn't live together now, there would only be one option: making love. They would be at each other's throats, ripping clothes off, clinging to each other but now they had to be responsible.

"I can get the dishes," Jim offered.

"Okay," Melinda said. "I'm going to, um, change."

She felt his eyes on her as she went to the bedroom, tugging her fancy dress off and hanging it neatly on the hanger; she liked this moment, when she let her hair down (quite literally sometimes) and just put on jeans and a t shirt.

She remembered this morning, and Jim's arms around her.

She wasn't going to put the jeans on.

And he wasn't going to do the dishes.

She walked back to the kitchen to find him filling the sink; she walked up behind him and turned the faucet off; he turned to see her there, clad only in her panties.

"This isn't going to work," she said, voice shaking. "If we're going to live together, we have to make more of an effort."

He was still, tense.

"Meaning?" He said. "Because I'm in this for the long haul, Mel. I know it's been hard, and I hate that we haven't been able to make it work, but I'll do whatever you want."

"Meaning I want you to wake me up, no matter how late you get in," she said, and his eyes widened. "I want you to kiss me until I'm so awake, I couldn't sleep for the world. I want to take every second we have; if you work until 2, then I want to have sex at two thirty a.m. I want you to come by my shop when you get off work and I can't be home until late; believe me, I can find take fifteen minutes to be with my boyfriend...fiance."

"Oh, god, Melinda," Jim said, stepping forward, hands cradling her face, and he was finally kissing her. "How do always need exactly what I do?"

"Wake me up," she moaned, as his lips fell to her neck, as he lifted her into his arms. "Wake me up for this."

* * *

"Every time, I swear," he mumbled, feeling her legs wrap tightly around his waist as he walked to the bedroom, toppling them onto the bed; she was already in bra and panties and it only took a second to get those off; he was peeling away his plaid shirt, she was throwing it aside and finally his jeans were gone too.

She was so sweet, he reflected, moving into her, their bodies meeting and connecting every place that they could.

And she was exactly what he needed.

* * *

Hours.

Jim got home at midnight the next day, putting his bag in the kitchen, making his way to the bedroom.

Melinda was sleeping deeply, hair in a high ponytail, in her usual nightgown.

He pulled his shoes off, keeping quiet, and his socks. His jacket he'd taken off in the living room, and now he was unbuttoning his blue dress shirt, pulling it off and finally...finally...leaning to press a kiss to Melinda's lips.

He felt her wake up, his body leaning over hers, hearing every little moan and gasp along the way; feeling one of her legs wrap around his hips, pulling them down to meet hers.

He was already pounding for her; he'd been thinking about this all night, wondering if she'd truly meant what she'd said.

She pulled back, gasping and bleary eyed, a smile on her face.

"You woke me up," she whispered, darting to press a kiss to his chin. "God, you woke me up."

And she was shoving him onto his back, flipping their positions, straddling him and just settling onto his chest, her lips landing on his, his hands coming to cup her ass, pull her even closer as their mouths moved together; as their tongues danced.

Perfect.

This was perfect.

He got her nightgown off, a few moments later, and just stared in fascinated awe for a few moments at her heavy breasts, her wide hips and lush ass.

And she was tugging at his clothes, pulling the white t shirt over his head, scraping his nipples along the way, making sure he felt appreciated.

And then their lips met again; and she was naked, hot against him, and god did that feel good; his fingers slipped between her thighs and his mouth finally dipped to her breasts, tasting her, and she was impatient, fumbling with his belt, palming him through his pants when that took too long, until he'd flipped them again, still half dressed, moving between her thighs because he was going to make this extra special, prove his word to her.

And she was giggling nervously, still not quite used to this part of the show, when his mouth landed on her, when she felt such incredible feelings, when every emotion and pleasure was pulled from her by his artful mouth and fingers.

When she finally came, clenching into his mouth, spilling over.

"Is this going to happen every time?" She asked a little dazedly, as he finally shed his pants; her eyes were dark when he slipped out of his boxers, and she was moving forward on the bed, wrapping her hands around him.

"If you want it to," Jim gasped, closing his eyes as she worked over him, moaning as her hands moved, breath halting when she gently pushed him onto his back, pumping at him, and that was so good, but then she was giving tit for tat; he could feel the shift of the bed and then she taking him into her mouth.

"I do," she whispered, seconds before doing so, breath hot on his erection. "So goddamn wake me up, Jim Clancy, and I'll be with you forever."

"Duly noted."


End file.
